


With Great Power

by HeereandThere



Category: Onward (2020)
Genre: Also Sorry to Anyone Who Felt Threatened Or Uncomfortable By the Original Tag, BEGON Inc/st Shippers, Barley Learns That Not All Quests Are Fun, Brotherhood, Colt is a Good Step Dad, Dark Past, Fantasy, Gen, Ian is Still a Mess But He’s Trying, Laurel is a Mighty Warrior, Magic, Post-Canon, Prophecy, Spells & Enchantments, Spirits, That Was Genuinely NOT My Intention But I Get Where You’re Coming From, The Manticore is a Really Cool Quest Guide, There Are So Many Generic Tags But They Fit So There, This is Also a NO Inc/st Zone, Unofficial Sequel, Visions, Visions in dreams, Wizards
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:20:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23756044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeereandThere/pseuds/HeereandThere
Summary: Ian swears his “Quests of Yore”, dungeon-delving days are long past. The magic part of things he’s getting the hang of, but 24 hours of fleeing from his mom’s boyfriend, merging into oncoming traffic, and defying death purely on accident was worth only the chance he and his brother were given. He continues to hone his mythical skill, but on lesser uses than resurrecting long gone loved ones; he doesn’t need it for anything else, right?But as magic’s influence on their modern world grows, an evil hovering just beneath the surface begins to stir, haunting the young wizard and revealing the greater cost of sorcery’s gift. Ian is given no choice but to brandish his staff once more as he’s plunged into a world of dubious past secrets, vengeful intentions, and the sickening discovery that he and his family may be even less in control of their lives than they originally thought they were.The road ahead is paved with uncertainty, but one thing is for sure: this is definitely a quest.
Relationships: Colt Bronco/Laurel Lightfoot
Comments: 10
Kudos: 33





	With Great Power

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **EDIT: Quick note! I assure you, even though the last update was two weeks ago, this story is NOT discontinued! I'm having some motivation issues at the moment, but I'm trying hard to get something out there to get the ball rolling. This tale of the Lightfoot family is far from over!**
> 
> **EDIT 2: SO. Apparently the other students Ian talks to at the beginning of the movie actually have names?? At least some of them do?? I literally did NOT know this, but I found one of the “Onward” books and they’re all actually named (AND the book is actually focused on them instead of Ian and Barley). So, I made a few quick changes to this chapter to match what’s apparently canon, and that’s on Disney actually giving us lore instead of haphazardly throwing new content out at us.**
> 
> Hi, I’m finally back with another “Onward” fic, this one much longer than the last! This is my first genuine attempt at writing a multi-chapter fic in over a year, and this one I feel good about; I actually wrote notes and planned out my chapters for this one, which is something I’ve literally never done with a story. Now, this is a bit of an ambitious project for me; it’ll at LEAST be 29 chapters (the only fic I’ve ever fully written and published online was 19 and the longest chapter was only 1,119 words; this chapter alone is pushing 3,000) if I actually get it off the ground and see it to fruition, and the worst part: that’s if I make it into two different books. This all is subject to change, but there’s a lot of information I want to put in there and I want to actually have buildup and character development. So, I hope you enjoy and forgive me for my incessant literary rambling. :)
> 
> Also, please note that this chapter is very description-heavy! I promise that not all sections will be like this; I do pride myself on preferring description writing to dialogue and I have chapters planned that will be similar, but the other characters will come into play and have more of a role come next chapter (a chapter that WILL build on the brief scenario you see here!).
> 
> Anyway, without further ado, I present to you: “With Great Power”!

_“Long ago, the world was full of wonder. It was adventurous... exciting... and best of all, there was magic. And that magic helped all in need._

_But it wasn’t easy to master. And so the world found a simpler way to get by._

_Over time, magic faded away. But I hope there’s a little magic left..._

_in you.”_

**~Wilden the Whimsical~**

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Shoulders relaxed. Elbows bent at just a slight angle, with hands steady and carefully planted on the staff’s handle. Feet positioned with caution, rooted in just the right spot, ready to get him moving tactfully if need be. Back straight. Breath slow and steady.

For but a moment, he made himself acutely aware of his physical self, closing his eyes and mapping out where he was and why. Sometimes an excess of cognizance could propel him straight into the mental neighborhood of outright panic, but concentrating his thoughts on himself and himself only made funneling his energy and attention into something _more_ all the simpler. All of the nervous energy, the anxiety, and the unanswered questions swirling through his cloudy mind parted in a moment of temporary sunlight as the din of menial chatter outside fell into meager static and every high expectation of him faded away. All that remained was him, his staff, and the task at hand.

Gently, he opened his eyes and took one final, calm breath. With a flourish of his staff, he announced, “ _Aloft elevar!_ ”

A brilliant beam of blue soared from the tip of the apparatus and engulfed an empty can sitting across the room, which, with a quick upward yank, darted over into Ian’s hand. It was a simple spell- the first he had mastered, in fact- but it still put some of his raw nerves at ease. He hadn’t suddenly been robbed of the magic gift nor had the key to it escaped him overnight, which meant that New Mushroomton would not have a laughingstock this evening.

Unless, of course, his stutter came back with a vengeance or the art of language abandoned him mid-sentence, or maybe he would totally blank and forget what he was talking about altogether. It seemed extraneous, but it had all happened before, sometimes in the same presentation, and that was only in front of a small class. This was the entire town. If he played his cards right, this was history in the making.

Ian chucked the can into a nearby trash bin and wiped his now-sweaty palms on the front of his jeans. Any moment now, he would be stepping out onto that platform whether things would turn out painful or perfect; working himself up only minutes before would only turn the odds against him, a philosophy that was becoming slowly- yet surely- easier to follow. He had no option but to push the thought aside and disregard the doubt gnawing at his insides. He had to believe that they would take him seriously.

Ian sidled over to the edge of the curtain, which extended into the wings of the backstage area, and gently pulled it back to survey the audience. It was a packed house, especially for what the gathering was meant for, with beings of every age and creed chattering curiously away in the rows after rows of theater-style seating, all of which he had to make a very good first impression on. He wondered if there were any other, more secretive mages hidden away in the sea of people who would side with or even vouch for him when all was said and done, but with magic still being nearly nonexistent in their world, he seriously doubted his chances. What mattered in the moment was instead the support that was guaranteed, even if those providing it didn’t completely understand his predicament.

Scanning the crowd, his eyes landed first on the quartet of teenagers seated in the audience of what he _thought_ might have been stage left (he wasn’t a theatre kid, but stage directions made enough sense), the presence of which made him feel much less alone. Even though his friend group has sworn up and down that they would be there for moral support, he still appreciated their silent faith in him. Though he couldn’t understand a word being said, he still watched gratefully as Althea chatted enthusiastically away, her one eye curiously glancing around the auditorium. Parthenope half-listened as she absently kicked the seat in front of her with the trademark satyr power in it driving the chair’s occupant, a middle-aged elf, absolutely mad. Next to them, Sadalia leaned against the much larger Gurge as they both fiddled around on their phones and occasionally shared what they were looking at.

In the back of the auditorium, Colt hovered near the exits alongside an ogre officer whose name Ian couldn’t recall. They always had police officers stationed at city meetings, just in case the crowd became ornery (which apparently happened more often than you would think), and his step-father had volunteered to take on this one despite usually avoiding those assignments in favor of patrol duty. It was a sign of solidarity, Ian realized, because even though things were still slightly tense among the centaur and the Lightfoot brothers, he was trying- more than some step-parents did. Even so, Ian couldn’t pretend not to notice Colt’s piqued curiosity in the art of magic (though, at this point, no one really could; he hadn’t taken to being very subtle about it), and knowing that there was an authority figure- an authority figure that people actually respected- on his side made things a bit easier to mentally handle.

His mother and the Manticore were sitting side-by-side in, of course, the front row, with Corey jovially mingling with surrounding audience members and Laurel occasionally drawing her attention for side conversation. Though the last thing he wanted to do was disappoint, the relief came in waves when he caught a glimpse of the one person he knew he could always count on; Laurel Lightfoot-Bronco was support personified, even if her attempts at keeping a consistently positive outlook in the face of embarrassment or disappointment were rarely perfect. Magic made her anxious, Ian had noticed, and he kept trying to gauge how much she truly trusted it, but she hadn’t made a single attempt at hindering the passion her children had for it. This meant that at least the car ride home would be free from cheap shots and possibly justified ridicule, which Ian had the utmost gratitude for. The only problem: good or bad, there would most certainly be photographic evidence of the evening.

It didn’t take long, though, for Ian to notice that the seat next to Laurel was empty, and a sharp pang of terror hit him. That is, until he picked up on the raucous laughter from the back of the house.

Of course, Barley had tracked down his “Quests of Yore” teammates; they were history buffs (see: nerds), all of them, and Ian had suddenly become so much more than the kid brother who hid upstairs when they were over for campaigns the day Barley had told them about his knack for sorcery. They were equally as anxious as he was to see magic make a triumphant return to their society, if for different reasons, but that didn’t mean that they still weren’t a touch overwhelming to be around. Even Barley, though Ian had learned how to withstand the worst of it, still had a penchant for being a bit much sometimes.

Still, his older brother had been the key to making this possible, to keeping Ian on the straight and narrow in terms of both practicing magic and keeping his heart’s fire strong, to helping ward off the self-doubt. The younger of the two wasn’t sure how he would have managed the moment had he believed that Barley had bailed on today of all days, at least knowing he surely would have been hurt, but if there was one thing Barley was consistent on, it was loyalty.

The elder elf was draped over the back of a satyr’s seat- Shrub Rosehammer, the unfortunate victim of the infamous Gelatinous Cube incident- as he animatedly told a tale that Shrub and the other two teenagers clung onto every word of with nods and chuckles. His hands flew left and right, only narrowly missing heads, and his expression shifted every few seconds to coincide with whatever was being said. It wasn’t until Barley made a familiar walking gesture across his arms followed by a dramatic downward motion that it hit Ian that realized what the subject was: the trust bridge- _his_ trust bridge. Once again, Barley was telling the story of that fateful evening, something that each and every one of his colleagues had heard a million times before.

It had become his favorite narrative to relay. Ian supposed it had become his, too.

Ian sighed and pulled the curtain to, and as he did, the lights out above the audience lightly flickered and all conversation died down. He tuned into the echo of footsteps across the wooden platform and the crystal clear voice of New Mushroomton’s mayor in the microphone as she cordially addresses the audience; she explained why they were all there, what the meeting entailed, and vaguely described their guest speaker and what he was doing there. Everyone in the crowd listened with bated breath, even Ian, who consciously straightened his posture and focused his attention on keeping himself from hyperventilating. 

“... so without further ado, I’d like to hand the stage over to Mr. Lightfoot.”

Ian exhaled gently. Showtime.

_This one’s for you, Dad._

He let his own inhibitions be drowned out by the sound of scattered applause, which thundered in his ears as he crossed the threshold of the stage. He took his place behind the podium and, once the noise faded out, he cleared his throat and began:

”Long ago, the world was full of wonder.”

His voice came out much firmer than he had expected. In an instant, he had commandeered the room, all eyes suddenly concentrating on him.

”Our ancestors lived in that world, which was untamed, unpredictable, and full of endless possibilities.

”Obviously, things have changed since back then. Now we don’t have to worry about things like staying warm in the winter or hunting and gathering food- with a push of a button or a quick drive, everything’s there. It’s handed to us. This means our lifespans are longer and we have more time to worry about other things, like the arts or sciences, or just enjoying our time while we’re here.

”But technology also means we’re desensitized to the experience of life as a whole. From the time we were little, my generation has had everything shoved right into our faces- what to spend our money on, who to make friends with, what latest trend to follow. We feel like we have the whole world at our fingertips, but in reality, we only have what everyone else wants us to. Still, we build our entire lives around that skewed mindset of what’s perfect. Instead of going for a hike, we just look at pictures of forests. Instead of going out and making friends, we comment on posts and hope that we _might_ be validated by the like button. We, as a society, have forgotten how to appreciate who we are and what we can do.

”We can’t go back to the ‘olden days’. Things have gone too far for us to regress and even if we could, there are still so many pluses to our modern society that it wouldn’t make _sense_ to abandon it. But we don’t have to forget our origins.”

Ian gripped the handle of his staff firmly and hugged it to his chest, just barely bordering on apprehension.

”Long ago, the world was full of wonder... and magic.

”Magic was what helped us get by before we had technology, so, as adaptation goes, we stopped seeing a reason to use it when we were given the luxury of convenience. Why waste energy casting a fire spell when, with a flick of a switch, your light turns on? What’s the point of using a levitation spell when we have cranes to do the job for us?

”Because magic isn’t _just_ about convenience. It’s about being a part of something greater than yourself, something you can’t even begin to understand. It’s about creating and doing things you never imagined possible.

”I can’t stand in front of you and pretend that I cared about magic before I learned I could do it. But with the right guidance,” he shot a glance to Barley, whose attention was solely focused on his little brother, “I learned what it meant to have the gift. With it, my brother and I were able to go on the adventure of a lifetime, and for the first time in sixteen years... for the first time in sixteen years, he got to see our dad again. That’s not something we could have done without _this_.”

He raised the staff above the podium, being careful to point it away from the audience (a misfire hadn’t happened yet, but you could never be too careful) as he put it on display. The skepticism from the crowd was immediately clear as confused murmurs broke out, but he held steadfast; as a mage, he still had a few tricks up his sleeve.

He stepped out from behind the stand, refusing to take his eyes off of the perplexed group and refusing to let them get underneath his skin.

He began to step forward almost wordlessly. The only words spoken were nearly silent and left the listeners hanging in suspense. It wasn’t until he stepped off the edge of the stage that they showed any concern.

Where anyone else would have tumbled and made a fool of themselves, Ian stepped out onto the air, faith restored as a smile crept its way onto his face. A sharp gasp resounded from the townspeople and he was certain several phones were immediately pulled out to catch what would have been quite the spectacle, only to be met with a contrast of pleasant surprise and utter disappointment. Ian continued speaking as he trekked down the aisle as though everything were normal.

”And this is just the _start_ of what you can do. There are who knows how many spells, and who knows how many we could discover if we just give it another chance?”

Ian dug into the front pocket of his shirt and pulled out several organized index cards, each of which had notes for his speech neatly written on them, and sent them sailing into the air. With precise tracing and a quick jab of the staff, he exclaimed “ _Presto avar!_ ” and where the cards would have floated gently to the floor, they instead came _alive_. Perfect creases split down the center of each paper piece as each and every one of them took flight, fluttering against the ceiling and over countless heads. This incited applause.

While they eyed the makeshift butterflies hovering in the air, he retreated back to the stage and stood side-by-side with the podium once again. There wasn’t much else he could do indoors without endangering someone (magic was, of course, not a child’s plaything) and he knew that it wouldn’t be enough for some people, but he would have to rely on his words for the rest, even if they did have a penchant for failing him. Still, those few spells had gotten the audience talking, and that certainly didn’t hurt.

To get their attention, he did, however, pull one last trick out: a quiet “ _Vocalys magnora_ ,” pursued by projection that ripped their attention away from the rest of it all. “In conclusion,” he announced, “I believe that we should at least _try_ our hand at magic again. It wouldn’t be easy to master- it never was- but we overcome adversity every day; this doesn’t have to be any different. We can make our world a place full of wonder and enchantment and adventure again without sacrificing our everyday lives, as long as we’re willing to give it a chance.”

With a curt nod, he muttered a “thank you.”

For a moment, he doubted if he had actually managed to make a good impression: had he not done enough? Had he talked too much? Had he said something wrong?

But, though the reaction wasn’t extreme, they seemed interested as they clapped at what was certainly a higher volume than simple politeness, and any intrigue at all was a plus in his book. Some people were even on the edges of their seats, seemingly begging for more with a curious glint in their eyes as they watched him expectantly, though he had nothing more to offer. And if he didn’t, that meant maybe- _just maybe_ \- they were willing to try it for themselves.

With a relieved smile, Ian realized that maybe they were willing to listen.

Maybe he had finally done something right.


End file.
